The ASSassin
by Tambleheadmonster
Summary: The epic story of how Tamble Bond must assASSinate the Imperial Chicken Master. BEWARE: The suspense might just be too must for you.
1. Default Chapter

The ASSassin

It was the only way to go. The only way to beat the Imperial Chicken Master (ICM) was to kill him. Who was that the job for? Bond. Tamble Bond. 0-0-11, License to chill. Well, it turned out that the ICM was in town for a meeting tomorrow. Seems perfect, except for the ambiguous service.

"My sunglasses are too dark, Jeff. Jeff, I can't see." said the outrageously sexy Tamble.

"Sorry Mr. Bond, Sir. I will make them lighter." answered his hideous in comparison secretary.

"Okay. Good. I want to get down to business now. How are we going to kill the ICM?"

"With a gun?" The nervous man asked.

"No. Too _traditional_. I was thinking of a tribal African war spear."

"Nice one, sir."

"Naturally."

They had arrived at the scene with the spear disguised as a pike. The made their way in, but the guard stopped them.

"What's that?" He demanded.

"A pike." Tamble coolly replied.

"No pikes allowed." He glared.

- - To be Continued. - -


	2. PART 2 Guard Breakthrough

Chapter 2

"Really? Well then. I must have made a mistake," Tamble said, ripping off the pike disquise, "It's a spear!"

"Oh my god! It's a SPEAR!! Get…" But before the burly guard could finish the sentence, Tamble attacked just as planned. With his 12th Degree Tai Kwon Joe skills, he easily sent the guard to the floor.

"Nice work Bond." Jeff said.

"Yeah, thanks. But it could have been easier if you hadn't made hese sunglasses so damn light. I'm almost going blind here!"

"Umm, didn't I just make them _lighter_?"

"Well, yes, but you made them TOO light."

"Oh. I see."

"Now, Jeff, my little friend," Said Tamble, looking extra sexy in the light of the hallway, "to the plan. We must, of course, beat the ICM. Well, that means, kill him, with the tribal African war spear. So here's the plan…"

**-To be Continued. -**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Okay. Could you tell me the plan just one more time?"

"Sure, Jeff. But this is the last time. We use these toilet plungers to scale the side of the building, cut a hole in the sky window, repel down on this dangerously old rope, use the greasy man to deactivate the laser field, and then just walk right in. You know the rest."

"Don't you mean a _**grease**man_?"

"No, silly Jeff." Tamble corrected, sexy as ever. "A _greasy man_."

"Where are we going to get one of those?"

"That's where you come in."

"But what if I can't find one?" He complained.

"Look. This isn't exactly as easy as cake for me either. You definitely made my sunglasses WAY too medium for comfort."

"I guess I could find him, then."

**-2 Hours Later – **

"As you can see, he is a VERY greasy man." Jeff proudly pointed at the man who was so greasy that you could see your reflection in his face."

"You know what?" The greasy man shouted, "I want to know what the hell is going on! I'm just a bus driver and you dragged me up…"

"Don't worry Bob," Tamble interrupted, "everything will work out great with your help."

"And another thing! My name's Larry!"

"Shut up Bob."

To Be Continued…


	4. The disco Laserdance

**Chapter 4**

"Alright Bob, how are you planning on getting past the laser fields?" Tamble asked.

"My name's Larry." The grease-dripping man corrected.

"Alright Bob, how are you planning on getting past the laser fields?" Tamble repeated.

"Well I saw in this movie, Ocean's Twelve, this guy called the dayrabbit used yoga dance moves to get through lasers. I don't know yoga, but I do the disco!"

"Disco, eh? That sounds just sexy enough to work!" Tamble cheered.

"Crazy seventies fad." Jeff said, but mostly to himself.

O-O-O-O-O-

The greasy man did the disco better than Johnny Travolta. Looking at him without knowing, you never could have guessed the skills he had. The pointing finger, the wheelbarrow, the Monkey. Dance moves that could crack a light floor. He was almost through, but out of nowhere, a grease droplet from his hair went right through a laser, sounding a silent alarm. The three thought they were done for. The lasers all focused on Larry, scanning him head to toe. All of the sudden, the lasers moved away from him and lit up a man who must have responded to the alarm. He was wearing a glittery shirt, bellbottoms, and had a giant afro.

"Damn, Tamble," Jeff nervously said, "How is he going to outdance this guy?" Tamble didn't respond. Instead, he thought. The alarm didn't call the police, it called a challenge. The challenge was a party-style dance off. If he lost, they were all dead.

"Ready Bob?" The disco-man asked.

"**LARRY** is always ready." The disco man went first, sliding on the floor like in Risky Business, and then backflipping twice. He topped it off with a classic point and shove, perfectly executed. This was going to be tough, Larry knew, this guy was a dance _freak_.

"No one beats Larry!" Shaking his head while walking backwards, Larry pulled off a perfect grave-digger and then a gravity smash. It went on like this for what seemed like hours, with the moves getting harder, and the dance getting funkier. But there was one difference. Larry was getting worn out, but the disco-man didn't even seem phased. Larry had to quit this fast, pull off his best move, or collapse and lose. He did a triple flip, inches from the disco man, a scratch–and–repeat, followed by a Jesus eating pizza. In one last burst of energy, Larry tried the backstabbing grandpa. He nailed it. There was no way the other guy could beat this. Unless, "Oh no," he thought. The Dragon's Uncle's Rocking Chair. That's exactly what the disco man was about to do. But halfway through, he disco-man fell down with a thud. He wasn't moving. Larry approached him cautiously. He looked different up close, almost _inhuman_. He reached down, and turned him over. There were gears in the man's chest showing.

"A robot!" Larry shouted, "That's why he wasn't even tired. But any disco freak knows, only a real human can pull off a Dragon's Uncle's Rocking Chair! I win!" Cheering, the three ran in towards the door of the meeting room. Tamble could taste victory. Or could he?


End file.
